Lady Connie eBook

Presently the sound of a piano was heard from the
open windows of a room on the first floor.

“Great Scott!” said Falloden irritably
to Meyrick, with whom he was walking arm in arm, “what
a noise that fellow Radowitz makes! Why should
we have to listen to him? He behaves as though
the whole college belonged to him. We can’t
hear ourselves speak.”

“Treat him like a barrel-organ and remove him!”
said Meyrick, laughing. He was a light-hearted,
easy-going youth, a “fresher” in his first
summer term, devoted to Falloden, whose physical and
intellectual powers seemed to him amazing.

“Bombard him first!” said Falloden.
“Who’s got some soda-water bottles?”
And he beckoned imperiously to a neighbouring group
of men,—­“bloods”—­always
ready to follow him in a “rag,” and heroes
together with him of a couple of famous bonfires, in
Falloden’s first year.

They came up, eager for any mischief, the summer weather
in their veins like wine. They stood round Falloden
laughing and chaffing, till finally three of them
disappeared at his bidding. They came rushing
back, from various staircases, laden with soda-water
bottles.

Then Falloden, with two henchmen, placed himself under
Radowitz’s windows, and summoned the offender
in a stentorian voice:

“Radowitz! stop that noise!”

No answer—­except that Radowitz in discoursing
some “music of the future,” and quite
unaware of the shout from below, pounded and tormented
the piano more than ever. The waves of crashing
sound seemed to fill the quadrangle.

“We’ll summon him thrice!” said
Falloden. “Then—­fire!”

But Radowitz remained deaf, and the assailant below
gave the order. Three strong right arms below
discharged three soda-water bottles, which went through
the open window.

“My goody!” said Meyrick, “I hope
he’s well out of the way!” There was a
sound of breaking glass. Then Radowitz, furious,
appeared at his window, his golden hair more halolike
than ever in the bright sun.

“What are you doing, you idiots?”

“Stop that noise, Radowitz!” shouted Falloden.
“It annoys us!”

“Can’t help it. It pleases me,”
said Radowitz shortly, proceeding to close the window.
But he had scarcely done so, when Falloden launched
another bottle, which went smash through the window
and broke it. The glass fell out into the quadrangle,
raising all the echoes. The rioters below held
their laughing breaths.

“I say, what about the dons?” said one.

“Keep a lookout!” said another.

But meanwhile Radowitz had thrown up the injured window,
and crimson with rage he leaned far out and flung
half a broken bottle at the group below. All
heads ducked, but the ragged missile only just missed
Meyrick’s curly poll.